Inconsequential
by Carmabaeji - Lively Aria
Summary: A follow on from a fic I read, whose author and title I can not remember, you don't need to have read it to read this, but it helps. Takes place towards the end of season 2.


Inconsequential.  
  
by Aria  
  
Rating: Same as the show.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own them, if I did then I would be a hell of a lot richer. No one's paying me to write this, so I'm not making any profit from writing it. I'm just a sad little person with nothing to do.  
  
Spoilers: The whole of the first 2 seasons.  
  
Synopsis: I stole the idea for this piece from another fanfic writer. I apologise, I'm taking the end of where her story left off, and am running off on my own with it. A post-post ep fic, based on the episode "...." and the fiction "...." I also accidentally lost another whilst writing this one, so I hope you guys like it.  
  
Also, I'm sorry about the tenses, they just went all over the place in this one, sorry.  
  
-*-*-  
  
I didn't see Josh for most of the afternoon. I left him a post it on his chair, along with a few files that he'd need to take with him over to the hill, and when I went in later on in the day they were gone. About three o'clock I got my first chance to return to my desk all evening, and I turned my chair to find a bright yellow post it stuck on the black vinyl. It read. "What would I do without you" he didn't question mark it and he didn't finish the sentence. Knowing Josh, I would expect that to be deliberate, so I could add something on, or I could take it as it was. I'd thought it was sweet for about thirty seconds, until I sat down and opened my drawer only to find the chicken salad I'd bought and stashed in there had been replaced by another post it. This one said, "Thanks for the salad. Love Josh." Actually, I still thought that was sweet.  
  
At the end of the day I walked past him near CJ's office, he immediately took stride beside me and walked with me back to the centre of the bull pen. I started the conversation. "You know I only buy that salad one day a week." I told him, scornfully.  
  
"Why? It's a tasty salad." he retorted, smiling. He hadn't fallen into step with me, he was skipping beside me, I shocked myself with the revelation that Josh had never really walked beside me, it was always an odd rhthymic skip.  
  
"My body can only handle it once a week, Josh, I'd get fat." I told him, as we approached the photocopier, there was no queue, am I the only person who photocopies?  
  
"You could never get fat." he grumbled, and leaned against the doorframe. We stood in silence for a minute whilst I pressed all the buttons I needed to just to get my one simple copy. "I'll make it up to you." he said, taking the papers I handed him, and holding them patiently for me.  
  
"Another salad?" I queried.  
  
"Next Tuesday, for your lunch." he said grinning like a cheshire cat. Which is actually true, Ellen has one.  
  
Before I'd had a chance to reply or say anything else, he was approached by Sam, and they walked off together, Josh tossed, "I'll see you later." over his shoulder, but when I nipped in to see the two of them in Sam's office later that day, to tell them I was leaving, he had nodded, wished me a good night, and given me a grim 'I'm sorry' smile.  
  
For about a week, it went like that, and I took to buying lunches for Josh and leaving them on his desk at noon, before he had the chance to steal mine. One night at seven I woke him up from his place on the desk. "You okay?" I asked, after he'd had a chance to mumble and peel papers from his face.  
  
"Sleepy." he'd replied, tying to reorganise his desk.  
  
"Then get some, if you don't want to go home, sleep on those couches in the basement. You can wake up at 2 am and come back up." Josh had agreed with me, and gotten up, grabbing his coat, I'd handed him his coat too, thinking he'd want a cover.  
  
Josh'd walked me out to my car, and I sensed he wanted to hug me or something, but there were cameras in the garage, and people walked constantly in and out. "Goodnight Donnatella." he'd murmured quietly, holding my car door open after I'd gotten in.  
  
"Promise me you'll sleep for at least five hours." I'd begged him, gripping his arm before he moved away.  
  
"All in one go?" he'd asked, I scowled at him. He laughed at me in return. "I promise." he said, and shut the door for me. He'd waved as I drove out of the car park. The next morning I'd dropped by his house to pick him up some clothes to wear for the next day or so. I was only going to give him one set, and keep the others. I didn't want to encourage his all-nighters. And I came in to find him hard at work, sipping at a huge mug of coffee.  
  
"Morning?" I'd queried, rather than greeted.  
  
"Got my five hours of sleep." he'd proudly announced, pounding his chest.  
  
I'd smiled. "You've got staff in 45, which means you have enough time to shower and change first." I produced a large brown paper bag and a coat hanger with a shirt on it.  
  
He got up and accepted the bag, rummaging through it. "I stopped by your house and collected some stuff." I looked at my watch. "GO!" I exclaimed, pushing his arm towards the door. He quickly walked off, but suddenly turned around and poked his head back through the door. "Is there..."  
  
I cut him off, I knew what he wanted. "Boxers in the bag."  
  
He muttered okay, and disappeared out the door. Within seconds he was back. "Is there..."  
  
I cut him off, I knew what he wanted. "Toothpaste and brush, in the bag."  
  
Once again he muttered okay, and disappeared out the door. This time it took less than a second before. "Is there..."  
  
I cut him off, I always knew what he wanted. "Shaver and shaving foam..."  
  
"In the bag?" he finished for me, sensing my exasperation. I smiled at him through my headache. He looked at his watch and walked back into his office. He checked for anyone directly outside the door, and pressed his lips against my cheek, calling thankyou out to me as he left the office.  
  
Josh showered, as per my orders, and changed into the clothing I'd given him. Once again, I didn't see him until the end of the day, when I stopped in to ask if he wanted anything. He hadn't looked up when he replied, and I'd turned to leave. I'd walked the metre to his door when he called out to me to wait. "Donna, are you leaving?" he asked me, as he stood up and walked over.  
  
"Yeah, thought I'd call it a night."  
  
"You wanna have dinner?" he'd asked me, as I got transfixed by a stray tuft of hair on the top of his head. I'd said, not as happily as my head did, that it was a good idea. Josh had been shocked, but had fixed himself a huge smile. "We can't really leave...I mean, I was only suggesting take out..."  
  
The rambling nature in which he spoke would make anyone think he was backpedalling, when he was desperately trying to justify to me having dinner with him. "That sounds alright." I said, placing a hand on his chest.  
  
He reached out an pulled the door shut, and as it clanged, he wrapped his arms around me, and kissed me. The first time in a week. It felt just like the first one, as he enveloped my entire body inside his jacket, and smoothed his hands across my shoulderblades, and as he softly pushed his tongue into my mouth, and caressed mine with his. It was over entirely too quickly, and he kissed my nose before I opened my eyes. "I love you, Donna." he whispered into the hair on the top of my head.  
  
He pulled away, and saved me from having to say it back, something that I certainly wasn't able to do then if I couldn't now. "I'll go get the take away." I say to him, I need to get a bit of fresh air for a while. He nods and returns to his desk.  
  
"Is there anything you want in particular?" We both know that I know his usual order, I'm just wondering if he wants anything unusual. He tells me no, and I take his coat off of the rack.  
  
"Actually, yeah." he then mumbled, raking his fingers through his hair. "Can you get me a beer?" he asks.  
  
I nod, once again, I know what he wants. Josh drinks this beer from a brewery up north. It's called John..something. I can't remember the name but I know the packaging, a guy with a three pointed hat on it, and some ships. "Sure...Can I borrow your coat?" I ask, and he waves his hand at me. Already reabsorbed into what he was doing before. Maybe he can get it out of the way by the time I get back.  
  
When I return I have one big paper bag, the beer is at the bottom, providing support for the six chinese cartons on the top. The door to his office is shut, and I wondered whether or not to go in, before I remembered that I'd shut it after I left. I pushed it open, and put the bag onto the couch before I pushed the door shut and shrugged off his jacket.  
  
"Donna..." he whispers, and I turn to him quickly. He sounded like he was about to cry, and when he held his arms out to me I rushed over to him, dropping his coat on the corner of the desk. When I reached him he wrapped his arms around my waist and pressed his head to my stomach, gasping, trying desperately not to cry.  
  
My hands fly down to stroke his hair, and I muttered his name. "Oh, Josh...Josh...Josh, shh." I mumble cooing, baby words to him, he hasn't started crying, but his grip around me is progressively getting tighter. "Are you alright?" I ask. "What happened?"  
  
He mumbles his answer, and I feel his mouth moving against my stomach. "He's not going to run." he replies quickly. Spitting out the words as though they leave a bad taste in his mouth. His grip suddenly tightens again, and I feel a few tears seep through my blouse. I whisper his name softly, stroking through his hair. He only sheds a few tears, and he eventually pulls away, running an arm across his face, but keeping the second arm wrapped around me.  
  
"I'm sorry, I don't know if we can still have dinner..." he apologises. He tilts his head up at me, and I look down at him past my breasts. I smile at him, letting him know that I'm not angry at him, even if I am disappointed. I stroke his hair again, and look at the silent television switched to MSNBC.  
  
"You still have to eat, Joshua." I use his full name to stress the importance of my words, "and I wasn't expecting stunning conversation anyway."  
  
He laughs at this, and I feel it in the spasic movements against my stomach. He stands up, and smoothes my hair back from my face, sliding a finger in between each lock of hair. I love it when he does that, It's feels like he's holding my entire head in his hands. He kisses me softly, and then we clear some space on the desk together. We drank six bottles between us, and ate a good portion of the chinese before Ainsley joined us, followed shortly by Sam.  
  
Lots of people will think our romance has been tawdry, or that it wasn't even a romance, that we were just together whenever it suited us. In the time we've been together since that day in the basement, nearly eighteen months ago, I can count all the times that Josh and I have been together, it amounts to something like a eighty occasions in which we've had sex. Oh, there's plenty of it when we get together, but we don't get enough of a chance. If you do the math, you work out that that's roughly once every week, but in actuality in includes times like the holidays, when we can get the odd day off, or when Josh does something romantic. It also includes the campaign, when I ended up organising his schedule for him, and packing him off across the country whilst I organised things in DC, California, New York, times when I didn't see him for a week, or there was way too much to do before we could even think about touching each other.  
  
I still live with Ellen, and the cats, but Josh has a toothbrush and some clothes at my place, just in case. I have a couple of things at his place, but normally I end up wearing his stuff. No one at work technically knows about us. We've never lied to them, not even in the odd 'Three's company' style scenarios that we've run into occasionally. Despite the fact we never told anyone, I think they figured it out, the pot was probably paid out long ago. Idly I wonder if they figured out the exact date or if they just paid out for when they realised that we were seeing each other in private. No one has ever asked us about it. It offers us up to a huge media circus on sexual harassment, or inappropriate conduct, neither of which would be justified, or even apply, nor would I accuse him of it, but it does open it up.  
  
One day a few months ago, he came into my office on a normal day. He sat on my desk, leant towards me and whispered, "if we don't get re- elected...can we get married?"  
  
I'd checked around for anyone who might have overheard them, and then for anyone who might be able to see as I'd moved to stand in front of him and placed a hand on his heart. There's a problem in having an office with three glass walls.  
  
Underneath my hand I felt his heart beating wildly, I was confused, the calm and collected manner in which he'd asked me made me believe it was a joke, a passing thought, but from the rhythm of his heart I came to believe that he'd been thinking about this for a while, that it was the most important thing in the world.  
  
"Donna." Josh's breathy tone, and concerned gaze snapped me back to the present. I probably snapped a yes out, and then he covered my hand on his heart with my own, the other snaking to a comfortable position on my back to pull me closer to him. "Will you marry me?"  
  
"Yeah." I answered, but before we had time to revel in it, we heard Leo calling his name down the corridor as he approached. We pulled apart in time for Leo's arrival, and they talked about something for a while. Josh squeezed my arm and smiled at me as they left together.  
  
It's wierd, I can't bring myself to tell him that I love him, even though sometimes it feels overwhelming, but I'll agree to marry him. I allowed myself to idly wonder what it would be like to marry him, after we were voted out...for us to be able to live a life together, and for a time I even wanted to marry him, for us to be voted out. I know Josh did, but he didn't once give anything less than 200% on the campaign, and on the hard work of the staff, and the validity of our candidate we won. We won't be getting married, at least not for the next four years.  
  
Josh consoles himself with the subtle changes. It's always been little things that amuse him, he consoles himself with the fact that when I wear a nice dress or do something to my hair, he doesn't have to ask if I have a date, it's for him. That when I tell him I hate him, because he makes me reorganise appointments, or type up a thirty page memo late at night, I don't really mean it. That when we're organising when we can next eat dinner out together or see one of our families, and we end up eating takeout in his office, writing emails, it won't break us apart.  
  
And I console myself with the fact that nothing has changed. I've only brought him coffee under the most dire of circumstances, and I still call him an idiot when he deserves it. I've never told him I love him, because nothing should change until we leave this place. He knows I do, on the rare occasions we can sleep together, he always silences me before I can say it, telling me it's not necessary.  
  
"His last executive action." He surprises me, suddenly appearing at my side as I head to my desk.  
  
"What?" I can honestly say I have no idea what he's talking about, which is rare for me. He's skipping beside me, despite my constant comments that he looks like a little girl when he does that.  
  
"Our wedding." Josh says the last bit a little quieter, and grabs the top two folders off of my pile, easing my burden for a moment, he's been a lot more considerate recently.  
  
"You think that should be the president last executive action?" I was amazed he was actually serious.  
  
"You don't?" We reach my desk, and he perches down on it, returning my files to my pile. He laughs, "Admittedly, declaring monarchy would be a good one."  
  
I interrupt him laughing at his own joke. "Josh," he looks like a pained puppy when I don't laugh with him, "We'd have to tell him."  
  
Josh doesn't seem to see this as a problem. "You don't see this as a problem."  
  
He raises an eyebrow at me, "We would have had to have told them sometime." he comments.  
  
I nod, happy that he still wants me, happy he thinks he'd want me in four years time. My eyes wander past his schedule. "Oh God, Josh!"  
  
"Not really the time for that, but I'll see what I can..."  
  
I stand up and hit him with the stack of memo's he's going to need. "You have staff in two." I tell him, and straighten his wayward tie. I've been doing a lot of personal grooming for him in the office, but that's not something that's new since out relationship began.  
  
"Crap." he mumbles to himself, and he walks slowly over to the exit, "Think rose garden, sculpture garden, mural room..."  
  
"Go Josh!"  
  
"Oval office?"  
  
When I call him back to tell him I love him, it nearly knocks him off his feet. No sooner have I said it than I yell at him for not going to staff, and he wanders around with this goofy grin on his face all day long. 


End file.
